Demons
by Sunset's Crying
Summary: Gakupo Kamui: After all, he has a reputation to maintain.
1. Whispers

Hey there. Full honesty - I have no idea where this is going. Ok, I have an idea, but a really vague one, I have no clue how to get to the disjointed pieces/scenes in my head to connect. So I'm just going to write. Maybe once a day hopefully? (Don't count on that) Because if I just try to think this out like a sensible human being, it'll never happen. And I want this to happen. I think. Who knows. Let's see where this goes, shall we?

\- Sunset

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Vocaloid in any way, shape of form.

~0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o~

It starts off as a mistake. And desperation.

Tears pouring down your face, choking, gasping for all, all you want to be is good enough. You want them to acknowledge you. To run their hands over your head and say, "Good job." "We're so proud of you." That's all you ever really want.

But you're not good enough. And so you don't deserve that.

Curled up on your bed, cocooned in your blanket, you try to muffle your noise, you can't let them hear you. Wrapped up tight, you try to hold the pieces together, keep yourself together, stay in one piece. But there's not enough duct tape, not enough air, it's pointless, why are you even trying?

Didn't you know? You're worthless.

But no. You have to try harder. Tomorrow will be better. You just need to try harder. And one day…you'll get there some day. Right? You just need to try harder.

But it's hard. You're running out of energy. Maybe you really are worthless. So when the whispers enter your ear, you can't help but listen. When the whispers make you promises, you can't help believing in them. There's nothing wrong with a little bit of help.

And at the time, when you agree, it was a mistake, honest. You didn't mean to say yes. Not really. But you did. And there's no going back. Ever. You only have yourself to blame, you worthless piece of shit.

But it'll be okay. Because soon enough, you won't be worthless. You won't be simply "good enough". You'll be amazing. Outstanding.

So what, if the weight in your chest never leaves? It's a small price to pay. You want to be happy, right?


	2. Oceans

Hullo,

Back again. Thanks to all of you who have show support very early on. It's nice, hearing from you again, R.J. as well as MikuShionSama and iloveyugiohGX93. I have a better idea of how this all may work out and I'm excited ^^ That being said, these chapters are probably going to be on the shorter side, just so you know.

Also, as a heads up, I'm going on a trip for a few weeks. I may or may not have WiFi there so I might not be updating for a while. I'll try to see if I can slip something in tomorrow.

Until next time,

Sunset

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Vocaloid in any way, shape of form.

~0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o~

Aria (IA) de Planetes

* * *

Miku Hatsune is a lot like the ocean.

She's always been there, a known fact but often forgotten about. Seated in the middle of the classroom, a row or sometimes two in front of me, her teal hair is pretty. Long and strung up into twin tails, the ends almost brush the floor when she sits. Rustling as she moves, I want to run my fingers through them. But I don't. That would be creepy.

Back super straight, Miku Hatsune is above average smart. Eyes trained on the whiteboard, listening to every word the teacher says, right hand flying, she works hard for her grades.

But sometimes, I don't think it's good enough. Sometimes, when we get our grades back, the paper wrinkles under her grasp. Body trembling, emotion barely restrained, she really is like the ocean, deceivingly calm.

Sitting alone, talking to no one, Miku Hatsune is unapproachable. She takes life and school way too seriously. She's no fun to be around. She's too uptight. I wonder if no one ever taught her, how to have fun. That'd be really sad, if that were the case.

"Hey IA! Let's go! It's time for lunch!"

Waiting for me impatiently by the doorway, Yukari hops from foot to foot. The rabbit ears on her hoodie swing back and forth, she must be really hungry. Getting up, my chair screeches against the linoleum floor, Miku Hatsune doesn't react. Gathering her books, her hands move slowly, lethargic. Passing her desk, her eyes, teal colored, like mini oceans, look bleak…and broken.

It's days like these that Miku Hatsune reminds me of the Dead Sea, completely lifeless.

But oceans are magical places and so is Miku Hatsune. Because one day, on a Thursday, Miku Hatsune walks in and washes over everyone. She leaves no survivors.

Slipping into her seat, energy thrums around her, alluring. Waves crashing, no one can ignore her and it's hard to say why. Head held high, the look in her eyes is different than I've ever seen before. Tugging at my skin, it's so easy to drown in her, her confidence, overwhelming.

Gasping for breath, I could die just like this, we all could, the ocean is dangerous and so is Miku Hatsune.

"Alright. Everyone get in your seats."

Walking in, smelling vaguely like cigarette smoke, Mr. Hiyama saves my life, all of our lives, without ever meaning to. Dumping a huge pile of papers on the front desk, he says, "Take out your textbooks, turn to page 252."

Picking up a marker, his scrawl, very pretty for a man, stretches across the whiteboard, and the hold she has on us slips, we'll live a little longer, tumbling against the shore, sand scratching against our skin, coughing, sputtering breaths.

Scrambling into my seat, Miku Hatsune is a lot like the ocean. Always changing, waves roaring, a known fact, dangerous when ignored. Leaning over her desk, cheek in one hand, pencil twirling in the other, it's like she's a completely different person. I don't know what this means.

Like the ocean, Miku Hatsune has always been part of my life. Sitting one row in front of me, sometimes two, her presence always lingers, curling at my toes. Rising and receding, never exactly happy, never quite satisfied, that is the Miku Hatsune I know.

But the girl in front of me now, this new Miku Hatsune, I don't know what to make of her. Full of life, dominating the room, I don't think I've ever been more excited.


	3. Candy

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Vocaloid in any way, shape of form.

~0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o~

 **So how do you feel?**

Awful.

 **Aw, come on. We're starting off easy. It's just a bag of mixed candy.**

Yeah…but…everyone knows he's a candy addict. He was probably looking forward to eating these himself.

 **Yeah well life sucks that way.**

And do I seriously have to do this while sitting _on_ his desk?

 **Where else are we going to stuff the empty bag?**

In a trashcan?

 **Bitch, please. Then he'd just think that someone** _ **took**_ **them instead of eating them all. There's a difference. Now step questioning me and eat the one with the green wrapper. It looks good.**

… ok.

* * *

Len Kagamine

* * *

"Why so down, Lenny Boy?"

Lying over his desk, arms hanging off the farthest end, the look on Len Kagamine's face is tragic. Neon pink and yellow nails glinting off the florescent lights, they flutter over an imaginary keyboard, the sound nonexistent but beautiful regardless.

Heaving a heavy sigh, he looks up, blue eyes cloudy with despair.

"…Someone ate all the candy in my desk."

" _What?"_

Pulling his body up, Len reaches into his desk to pull out the clear empty bag full of crumpled wrappers. Staring at the empty bag, one would think his dog had gotten ran over by a truck or something. But no, it's a lack of candy. But then again, this _is_ Len Kagamine we're talking about.

Unperturbed by his chuckling his friend, Len doesn't have to wait long for that hand to come down and ruffle his hair, messing up his already messy hair. The oversized strawberry beads on his hair tie clatter against each other and the feeling is just as comforting as the promise of, "Stop being a drama queen. I'll buy you a new bag later."

Smile hidden behind his knees, drawn against his chest, Len Kagamine complains for a little bit more, because he can, because he knows his best friend will listen to every word he says.

"But who does that anyways, eating somebody else's bag of candy? Can't they buy their own?"

Fingers still running through his hair, the answer comes almost immediately. "Who knows? People are weird and unnecessarily mean sometimes."

"…Guess so."

"Now cheer up. You'll survive a day without candy."

"I don't know…" Biting his lip, fiddling with the ring embedded there, how else is he supposed to stay awake during class, let alone stay entertained?

"Come on. Stop looking so skeptical, I have faith you'll be able to do it. I know. If you can survive the day, we can go to that cupcake shop you like."

"Really?" Sitting up with excitement, accidentally jostling the hand from his hair, it doesn't take much to please Len Kagamine.

"Yeah."

"Wooo! You're the best Kaito!" Wrapping his arms around the guy, cheek pressed up against his stomach, the scenario would have looked weird if it were anyone else. But Len Kagamine is special and that includes how he treats his closest friends. After what happened a few years ago, no one dares to mess with him anymore.

"I know."

Stepping back from his friend's embrace, the chair screeches as Kaito twists it backwards, his legs straddling the frame. His backpack hits the ground, thumping under the weight of all the textbooks and notebooks.

Forearms resting on the top of the chair, his smile turns mischievous. "So did you think of anything new for Project Gummy Bear?"

Smile blooming across his face, the excitement in Len pours out in waves, warm, like the sun. It's hard, not getting sunburnt sometimes. "Yeah!"

Pulling out a mangled notebook from his backpack, he quickly flips to a page, full of multicolored scrawls, bullet points and crossed lines.

Turning the book around so that Kaito could see it, he immediately goes to explain, "We've been overthinking it this entire time. What we don't need is a _single_ instance. No. We need to get them talking, kinda like being friends but not exactly. We have to do this in a way so that she doesn't get friend zoned."

Quirking up an eyebrow, Kaito shoots back, "Yeah, but isn't that the whole reason we started aiming for that single heart-racing instance? To avoid potential friend zoning?"

Banging his head on the desk, the groan comes out muffled. "Yeahhhhh."

Lifting his face, looking semi hopeful, Len still asks, "But talking is good? Talking means that she's at least aware of her presence?"

Taking a moment to think about it, Kaito agrees with a short nod. "Yeah. That'd be a good start. So how do we get them talking?"

Pouting again, Len mumbles, "I didn't think that far."

"Nice. Well I'm sure we'll think of something, maybe over cupcakes?"

"Yeah sounds good."

Turning around to sort out his books, Len slips the notebook back into his bag, glancing to make sure the main subject of Project Gummy Bear is still unaware of the entire affair.

Pulling out his history notebook, that's when she walks in, Miku Hatsune. Long teal hair swinging with every step, it's hard to look away. Head held up high, walking with a certain swing to her hips, she is nothing like the girl she was a few days ago. It's hard to say what changed but certainly something did.

Before, she was unapproachable because she was so…gloomy. But now, it was like she was so…much, too much…overwhelming. Yeah, that's what it was. Miku Hatsune was overwhelming.

But it's not like he was friends with the girl so it doesn't really matter to him, not really. As long as he doesn't pay too much attention to her, he should be able to breathe just fine. Hopefully.

Poking Kaito's back, his friend glances back at him. "Miku Hatsune is kinda…scary now, isn't she?"

Casting a glance towards her, he reacts with another short nod. "Yeah. She is."

But before the conversation can continue, Mr. Hiyama breezes in, "Open your textbooks to page 301. Get your homework out while you're at it."

The chatter of the class shifts to the shuffling of papers and textbooks. There are more important things to worry about than Miku Hatsune.


	4. Sunsets

WiFi! Huzzah!

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Vocaloid in any way, shape of form.

~0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o~

 **Listen to me girl. You want to be happy?**

…yeah.

 **Then stop giving a shit about what other people think of you, of what you're supposed to be. Be whatever you fucking want to be.**

But I don't even know what I want to be. So how am I supposed –

 **Then stop playing it safe and** _ **live**_ **. If you fuck up, then you fuck up. Screw everyone else. Now grab that one with the strawberry wrapper. I think those ones are my favorite.**

* * *

Oliver Eiríni

* * *

Few people know that being the school's Library Aide is a paid job. It's a well kept secret, guarded by "policy" and pride.

On the school's behalf, it's more about "fund allocation." After all, every parent likes to believe that their child is the most important and precious thing to ever grace the planet, let alone the school grounds. And so, according to such parents, it is unfair for the school to show "favoritism" towards certain students. There are so many "underfunded" departments, it simply isn't right that their hard earned tax money goes towards the poor whelps that will amount to nothing anyways.

So there's that. People are great. Really.

But there's also the fact that no one really likes admitting that they're dirt poor and that their mother is a raging alcoholic with a gambling problem. That's right. People like that actually exist in real life. It's a shocker, I know.

Sorting out the stack of books in front of him, Oliver Eiríni really can't complain about his job. It pays above minimum wage and it's low key enough that he can study and do his homework during his shifts. That way, when he's working late shifts at the convenience store, he doesn't have a pile of homework waiting for him. Best of all, he can avoid his mom and her tendencies to wheedle money from him and/or throwing beer bottles at his face. She's rather good at doing both.

Placing the books on a cart, the wheels squeak with every rotation. It's one of the few sounds that fills that library this late in the evening. Steering the cart with a firm hand, humming a song under his breath, it's easy to ignore the boy leaning against the tree across from the windows (not). Cigarette hanging lazily from between his fingertips, once again, their eyes accidentally (?) crash, and no matter how many times it happens, Oliver finds himself intimidated by those eyes every time. Violet and searing, his grip on The Great Gatsby tightens.

But like always, the boy looks away, eyes flitting somewhere else, somewhere more important than Oliver's existence. Taking a breath, forcing himself to move, to breathe, this is completely normal (not), the last thing he needs is to get involved with the school delinquent. Stereotype or not, Oliver needs to live long enough to graduate school, go to university, become a highly paid accountant and payoff the debts his mom owes, preferably in that order. After all, they aren't going to pay themselves.

Locking up the library doors, there is something inherently satisfying about handling the oak doors. By this point, he'd figured out that it definitely had something to do with their actual weight and their finish. So if maybe he felt up the doors every now and then, at least there was no one around to see him do it.

Slipping the library door keys into his pants pocket, it's easy to maneuver the pack of cards out of one of the pockets in his backpack. Mindlessly shuffling the cards, he picks two at random, Queen of Diamonds and 5 clubs. Heading for the staircase at the end of the hall and double checking the month's sunset times on his phone, he only has roughly 5 minutes before he's late. Climbing up the stairs, pulling himself up roughly with the handrail, he'll get there in time (probably).

Skidding in front of Year 2, Class 4, Oliver barely has a minute left on the clock. But he's made it. Heaving slightly, absentmindedly tugging on the sleeves of his shirt, the view in classes 4 and 6 are his favorite during fall. Today will be good. Leaning against the doorway, waiting for the sun to set just right, it takes a moment for him to notice the extra (and unexpected) person in the room.

Sitting on top of a desk, picking through a bag of candy, it's the first time Oliver has ever seen anyone still in the Y2C4 classroom when he's in it. Thigh high socks tight against her skin, her skirt pools on the desk, her teal hair practically tumbling off in waves.

Staring at the girl's back, he can vaguely recall the rumors of a teal haired girl in Y2. Not really caring much for the drama of upperclassmen (or anyone at all) but he knows she's a hot topic right now. Something about her eyes or how well she sucks a cock? Something like that.

Legs hanging off the desk she's sitting on, the room burns orange, breathtakingly beautiful (both her and the color), and Oliver is drowning ever so slightly, damn, he loves sunsets.

Breath catching in his throat, the girl turns, outlined by the sunset, set aflame, it's almost magical. Pursing her lips, she silently offers out her bag of candy, the wrappers crinkling against one another.

Stepping forward before he even realizes it, Oliver is digging through the bag, still mesmerized by a burning star and the girl in its way.

"…Thanks."

"Yeah."

Standing next to the girl, chewing on a caramel, Oliver doesn't know if the rumors about the girl are true or even if he heard the right rumors at all. He really couldn't care less about them. But if she happened to be in the classroom the next time he drew a Queen and a 5, well, he wouldn't have minded at all.


	5. Blue Sky

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Vocaloid in any way, shape of form.

~0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o~

Staring up at the blue sky, watching the clouds pass by, you can almost pretend that this is entirely normal. Almost.

Concrete pressed against your back, arms tucked under your head, legs crossed, you try to calm your rapidly beating heart. Biting your lip, you try to squash down the ingrained feelings of guilt. _This isn't wrong. Everyone needs a break now and then._ It seems that no one ever told you how awful it would feel.

Deep breaths, focus on the passing clouds, everyone cuts school every now and then. Just because you miss a day doesn't mean you'll fail out… grades aren't everything. _What a lie._

 **Calm down already. You're doing fine.**

Staring up at the sky, you try to tell yourself that you're doing the "right" thing, that you did the "right" thing. There is no taking back what happened. This is something you're not allowed to regret. But still…the weight in your chest grows heavier, a constant presence, an eternal reminder of how _pathetic_ you are.

 **Exactly. But don't you worry girlie. When I'm done with you, you'll be the most unpathetic person there ever was.**

You know it's foolish. But still, you want to believe in these words. It's unbelievable sometimes, how hard it is to be happy.

And for hours, you stay like that, staring up at the sky, letting the breeze pass over your skin. Arms hanging off the sides of your perch, very few people pass by. It's better that way. You don't feel like answering to them. But one person catches your eyes.

Speeding by in a blur of pink and grey, a boy, your age, leaps into the sky. Airborne, skateboard tucked under his body, headphones hanging around his neck, his body covers the sun. And in the moment, you can't help but be jealous of the freedom he seems to have.

Landing with a clatter onto the asphalt, he stops and looks up at you, skateboard resting against his leg. Flipping your body over, curiosity taking over, his amber eyes bore into yours and you realize that you _do_ know the boy. He's in your class, Yuuma Kanna.

Resting your head on your forearms, you lift a hand and wave, because why not? Standing there, staring at you, the look on his face is unreadable. But his eyes, they betray the disbelief he feels.

"You're different from before."

And it feels weird, having the words told to you out loud, straight to your face. Somewhere deep in your core, you know that you are in fact different than you used to be but at the same time, you don't exactly _feel_ it, not really.

"Is that so?"

Nodding his head once, something in your chest flutters. You still don't know if this is a good thing or a bad thing, this _person_ that you're slowly becoming. But you're _excited_ and that in itself is almost a miracle.

Nodding his head once again, Yuuma Kanna's skateboard falls to the ground. Hopping on it, he adjusts his feet, probably going to do whatever it is he does when cutting school.

But the exhilaration, you want more of it. And so you call out, "Wait!" and he does. Looking back at you, curiosity shining in his eyes, you're not really sure if this is a good idea. But you want to do it anyways.

"Teach me how to use a skateboard."

Eyebrows rising, a small smile graces his lips. "Only if you tutor me in math."

"Deal."

Watching Yuuma Kanna skate away, laughter echoing in your head, **You did good girlie.**

Looking up at the sky, smiling to yourself, you can almost convince yourself that maybe you made the right choice after all.


	6. Reputation

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Vocaloid in any way, shape of form.

~0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o~

Ugh! This is awful! Why am I doing this again?

 **Because everything gets better before it gets worse.**

Can't you teach me this life lesson some other way?

 **Nope. But don't worry, you'll enjoy this soon enough.**

Not if I die first.

 **Stop being a fucking drama queen. I need this and soon enough so will you.**

* * *

Gakupo Kamui

* * *

Heading over to his favorite tree, blood drips down Gakupo Kamui's knuckles. Noting the injury with disinterest, the boy casually licks it up, iron on his tongue, only to watch it well up again. Oh well. It'll stop bleeding eventually.

Stretching out his arms above his head, exerting the muscles, the pull feels good. Rolling his shoulders, his neck, his hair whirls around him in a perfect arc. Violet, speckled with blood, the "gang" that approached him today were just a bunch of small fries at best, a bunch of punks trying to prove something to someone. It was somewhat annoying, the entire encounter. But in the end, it came out to be a good stress reliever so it wasn't entirely pointless.

Dropping his arms, the tree comes into view. It's a giant oak with a study trunk, great for just lounging against for hours, which is exactly what he liked to do around this time of day. Smile tugging on his lips, his reasons for doing what he does may not exactly be the best. But it's all a matter of perception. _Per-cep-tion_. It's a magical word that makes him feel less creepy than he actually is. After all, he has a reputation to maintain.

A few feet from his favorite tree, Gakupo Kamui pauses mid step, there's someone in his seat. A girl. Holding a cigarette in her hand, smoke fogs around her in a thick cloud. Scowl on her face, looking entirely displeased, she takes a drag from the cigarette. Holding the smoke in for way too long, she coughs viciously, her body practically bent over in half.

Staring at the display, Gakupo Kamui almost considers relocating to a different tree. After all, there are enough windows, he'll get a perfect view regardless. But _no_. That's _his_ tree and there's no way he's giving it up for some underclassman who can't even properly smoke a cigarette.

Controlling his irritation bubbling under his skin, Gakupo Kamui is now _so_ glad that those punks tried to mess with him earlier, he doesn't want to hurt this girl over something stupid.

Stopping a few inches in front of her, he can clearly hear the girl grumbling to herself, what even? Slowing titling her head to look up at him, Gakupo Kamui is met with fierce teal eyes and he vaguely recalls the rumors of a teal haired girl in Year 2. Something about her eyes or that she worked part time as an S&M Queen. Something like that.

Legs crossed over, cigarette hanging lazily between her fingertips, there is a silence and Gakupo doesn't know how to break it without making a fool of himself. Poking his Dr. Martens with her foot, the girl offers him a small smile. "I took your tree, didn't I?"

Nodding once, frown fiercely plastered on his face, he can feel his usual brand of intimidation rolling off his body in waves. He has a reputation for a reason. But instead of scampering away in fear like everyone else, the girl simply smiles a little wider and moves over. Patting the seat next to her, Gakupo almost can't keep the shock off his face. Standing in front of her a little longer, her teal eyes ablaze with something he can't quite name, there's something curious about the girl.

Deeming it unnecessary to make an issue out of the invitation, Gakupo finds himself sitting next to her, their shoulders brushing. Leaning back against his tree, the relaxation slips into his skin and he can almost forget the abnormality of the situation. Pulling out a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket and a lighter, his own cigarette is soon set aflame, it's smoke mixing with the girl's.

Taking a drag, the smoke swirls in his mouth, his lungs and his entire being and it's good, exactly what he needed. Blowing it out in perfect hoops, he almost chokes when the girl next to him starts coughing just as violently as before.

Glancing over at her, Gakupo can't restrain the question any longer. "What are you trying to do?"

Tears slipping from her eyes, she states the obvious. "Smoke. I'm trying to smoke." Waving her cigarette with disdain, she straightens up once again, practically glaring at the filter between her fingertips.

"Well you're taking in way too much smoke at once. That's why you're coughing like that."

Eyebrows bunched up on her face, she takes a moment to consider his words before gesturing at him. "But you…"

"I'm experienced. You're not. Stop trying so hard. This is supposed to help relax you, not kill you."

Lips falling open, the girl just stares and stares. And suddenly, Gakupo remembers what this girl used to look like, quiet, conservative, uptight, like the world was shoving her down into the ground. Staring back at her, he watches, with mild fascination, as she burst into laughter, her entire body shaking with mirth. Tears slipping from her eyes, she looks at her cigarette and takes another drag, a small one. Holding the smoke in for just a moment, she releases, amazement written clearly on her face.

"God, that still tastes awful."

"You get used to it."

"So I will."

Sitting there, under his favorite tree with a strange girl, the smoke from his cigarette curls around hers and it's…nice. And when Oliver meets his eyes, she watches quietly, not interrupting, not mocking him, just observing the moment for what it is and what it isn't.

He can vaguely see their reflection against the library window, their two bodies sitting side by side, their hair, teal and violet, pooling against the grass. The smoke has long since faded, their cigarettes snuffed out.

Eventually standing up, the girl brushes dirt from the back of her skirt. Standing a few inches in front of him, their positions reversed, she smiles…no…. _smirks._ Glancing back at the library windows, she whispers, "I won't tell."

What she won't tell, he's not exactly sure. But he's grateful anyways.

"I'm Miku, by the way."

"Gakupo."

Amusement in her eyes, she says, "I know." Gathering her bag, she adds, "After all, you reputation precedes you."

And this, Gakupo knows is true.


End file.
